


long lines of questions, lessons, (but what do you lose to concede?)

by inverted_paradox



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cabin Fic, FUCK CANON!, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Irondad, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Peter Parker, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, its between tony and the oc, spiderson, tony doesnt die and neither does natasha!, tony is parent to peter and nothing else yall nasty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 16:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21497047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inverted_paradox/pseuds/inverted_paradox
Summary: “I am in trouble here. This woman is not right.” - Stephen King’s MiseryORTony and Peter wind up in a stranger’s cabin, and all she wants is a family.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 147





	long lines of questions, lessons, (but what do you lose to concede?)

**Author's Note:**

> I saw something a few weeks ago that combined the word "kidnapping" with "family" and I had an epiphany. If you've seen the movie Misery...yeah.
> 
> Also literally the ONLY reason i decided to title this fic song-style was because it was over 20k fjgdfgjk  
The song is 666 by Bon Iver

“Wow I love Led Zeppelin.”

“Kid, if you say that one more time, I’m really considering kicking you out of the car. Literally,” Tony scowled, though his amused tone could be heard above the smattering of conversations occurring within the confines of the limo. Brian Johnson was snarling through the speakers, _Hells Bells _humming lowly in the air, filling the space between conversation.

Peter looked at Tony, affronted, and made gesture of turning to look out of the window, where a cold mountainous landscape of New York lay. “We’re on the interstate. And it’s cold.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tony said. “I don’t think I stuttered. Did I stutter?” He then turned to Pepper who was sat next to him. Her mouth curled amusedly, and she squeezed Tony’s left arm gently. “No, I don’t think you did.”

Tony hummed. “See? I didn’t.”

“Morgan,” Peter said, completely ignoring Tony and Pepper. The small girl, tucked into Tony’s side, protected by his gold and red prosthetic arm, perked up and looked at Peter. “Did you know that Led Zeppelin sings this song?”

Tony gaped and Pepper chuckled. Morgan, for her part, was disinterested. She giggled, however, when her father gently muffled her ears, her head cradled gently between his palms. “Parker, that’s heresy.”

Peter shrugged and smiled, giving Tony a lovingly amused look before settling back into his seat and looking out the window contentedly.

Tony dropped his hands from Morgan’s head. She struggled out of his grip and moved to go sit by Peter, planting herself between his knees and extending her stuffed dinosaur to him. He regarded it with utmost reverence when he took it from her hands. With Tony’s busted right ear, it was difficult to make out what they were saying, but their contentedness was telling enough. Tony sighed happily and leaned into Pepper at his left side, feeling her lips brush his cheekbone.

The limo was Morgan’s idea. She had seen one weaving through the heavy Queens traffic when the three of them had gone to visit the Parkers in the city and immediately was gob smacked. It was a jarring realization for Tony in particular; when he was her age, he had probably ridden in more limousines than most people have seen in their lives. He had made it one of his goals to keep Morgan out of the public eye for as long as he could and living in a lakeside cabin in upstate New York helped with that, but he didn’t want to shelter her either. He wanted her to know each different facet of life, especially since she was born with a more-than-generous inheritance to her name. He wanted to teach her to use her wealth and power for good, for the people who weren’t as lucky.

But she wanted to ride in a limo instead of the Quinjet or, god forbid, a cramped SUV, to the Adirondacks. To be fair, her seemingly one-tracked infatuation had merit since they were hauling nearly the entire Avengers team and then some.

Happy was driving and Rhodey was riding shotgun (he had played with Morgan for about an hour into the trip, making goofy faces through the privacy screen. Her joyous elation at her uncle made Tony’s cheeks hurt from smiling). Sat against the wall dividing the front of the car and the cab was Natasha and Clint, currently playing some sort of hand game and laughing. Her arms were only slightly shaking – her motor skills were improving each and every day. Bucky and Sam sat against the left side of the cabin, across from where Peter and Morgan were sitting, bitching playfully about something. Tony was surprised he didn’t know what they were talking about, their voices bordering on thunderous. Steve was sitting against the right wall, closest to Tony, dividing his attention between everybody in the cab. For the first time in a long time, Tony thought he looked peaceful. Thor was, unfortunately, off-world, supposedly living it up with the Guardians. Tony hoped he was doing well for himself.

“You know,” Pepper said. “I will say that our daughter knows how to show off under the guise of practicality.” She motioned towards the interior of the limo.

Tony turned towards her, almost bumping noses with her with how close their faces were. He smiled. “She learned from the best.”

Pepper’s eyes glinted. “Who’s ‘best?’”

“Art is interpretive.”

“Out of all the people I’d expect to hear say that,” Pepper said. “You are at the bottom of that list.”

“Wow,” Tony drawled, noticing that Steve had turned his attention to them from the corner of his eye. His smile was infectious. Tony paused, watching Pepper’s gaze flicker challengingly. “No, yeah, you’re totally right. I just got possessed by Picasso, or something. I’m back in my body now, no worries.”

Pepper’s grin cracked and she laughed, looking down and sucking the bottom of her lip, trying to sequester her smile, a tick that Tony found adorable.

“Daddy!” Morgan said excitedly, standing up and wobbling across the cab against the movement of the car to grasp Tony’s knee. She bounced on her feet, pointing at Steve. “Snow! Mountains!”

At her words, Steve slouched to the side, exposing the window behind his head. Morgan turned, walking over and clamoring over Steve’s torso, kneeing him hard in the stomach. Steve steadied her with a gentle hand at her back as she pressed her palms against the frosting window. Morgan turned, giddy, looking at her parents. Tony would never get tired of seeing her smile.

“Yeah, baby,” Pepper said, clearly just as overwhelmingly in love with her daughter as Tony was. “That’s where we’re going.”

///

The mountain house was larger than the lakeside cabin, Tony realized with a minute amount of shock. It was situated at the end of a long, winding, open road that crawled across a mountain ridge. It sat elegantly at the end of a plateaued bit of rock, looking over a landscape of jagged cliffs and evergreen forest that cut the grey sky in sharp pieces. The ground was layered with a plot of fresh snow, maybe four inches thick. Pepper had to wrestle Morgan into her boots and coat, the young girl was so excited.

Peter picked up Morgan in his arms after she was bundled up and they exited the cab together, though she was quick to wriggle out of the boy’s arms, landing in the icy snow with astounded comments of joy. Clint left the cab next, offering Natasha an arm for her to hold on to. Tony could tell it took her a moment to force her brain to move her legs the way she wanted, but the hesitation was minute, and she exited the cab with her usual sly grace. Sam practically pushed Bucky out into the snow before laughing, following him.

Pepper stood, stooping slightly under the low roof of the limo and offered her arm to Tony. Steve stood and did the same.

“Finally,” Tony huffed, grabbing one proffered arm in each hand and hauling himself to his feet. The sudden change in elevation caused spikes of numbness to rocket through his right leg, but it subsided quickly enough. “People treating me like the king I am.”

Once upon a time he probably would have snapped like a petulant four-year old, reverting back to the “I-can-do-it-all-by-myself” phase, but after everything that happened, long story short, it felt nice to be taken care of once in a while. Going on his track record of self-care, between the alcoholism, the palladium poisoning, the PTSD, and the pick a problem, any problem, and battling that by himself for the majority of the time, he probably would have keeled over from over exhaustion by now. He got tired easier, his muscles ached more, sometimes his memory failed (which frustrated him to no end), he couldn’t be Iron Man anymore…but he was happy. He had a wife, a child (two, even), people he could call family. The world was whole again. _His _world was whole again. A couple more decades of moments of physical discomfort was worth the world of contentment he knew he would have for the rest of his life.

“Hobble along, your majesty,” Steve said, squeezing Tony’s metal arm gently to show in jest.

“Careful there, geezer,” Tony said in response, stepping out of the cab after Steve, adjusting to the uneven snow-covered road. “If it weren’t for the serum, you’d look like a wendigo.”

“Play nice,” Pepper admonished, stepping out of the car and slamming the door behind them. She tucked herself under Tony’s arm, snuggling close to him. He knew her intentions were to help him traverse his way to the cabin, but she was warm and strong, and he knew it was just as much for him as it was for her. Dual purpose.

Steve squeezed Tony’s shoulder, giving him a playful smile before turning towards the house and walking there himself, but not before getting smacked in the side of his face with a snowball. He halted, turned his head and stared at Bucky, glowering with his “Captain America” eyes, snowflakes hanging off his eyebrows and beard. The look was overall unintimidating.

“That was HYDRA,” Bucky said, quickly melting snow clinging between the plates on his silver arm.

“Man,” Sam laughed. He seemed like he wanted to say something else, but every time he tried, he kept getting overtaken by laughter.

Steve stared at the pair a moment longer before looking back at Tony and Pepper, his gaze so flat and unamused it rivaled Happy’s glares. He looked back at Bucky. “If this vacation turns into a warzone, I’ll made sure that _HYDRA _pays for it, hm?”

“It won’t happen again,” Bucky nodded. “Cross my – uh, HYDRA’s heart.”

Steve’s mouth wrenched in a smothered smile as he brushed the snow out of his hair, continuing his path to the cabin. The limo behind Tony and Pepper shifted into gear as Happy and Rhodey peeled off the main road, trying to find a suitable place to park for the trip.

Pepper squeezed Tony around his middle quickly, and then released him. “I’m gonna recruit the enhanced boys to help haul the luggage out of the limo.”

“Make sure Pete helps,” Tony said. “Make sure he hasn’t careened himself off the mountain yet.”

Pepper hummed and smiled. “Go with Morgan to pick out a room for us.”

Tony kissed her cheek. “Will do, boss.”

///

“Do you think I could fisticuff a yeti if we see one?”

Tony looked up from where he was zoned out at the dining table, a cup of coffee sat near his hands. Peter skipped the last four steps on the staircase, feet hitting the hardwood floor almost silently before padding over to where Tony was sitting.

“Could you?” Tony pressed. “Yeah you _could, _physically_. _Would you win, now that’s the question.”

Peter sat down in front of Tony, taking the coffee mug between his own hands, huffing. “Why do you have such little faith in me?”

“Should I be expecting a fistfight between a spider baby and a mountain gorilla soon? Is this a warning?”

“Honestly,” Peter said, taking a sip of coffee with only a small grimace. “I don’t think I could do it without obtaining a _massive _guilt complex over it. What if he’s just protecting his land?”

“You already have a massive guilt complex, kid.”

“Massive-er.”

“What is this conversation? What are we talking about?”

Peter laughed. “Morgan was curious to see what you’d say. If you must know, _she _thinks I could win against a yeti.”

“Ah,” Tony said, monotone. “Suddenly this all makes sense. Give me back my coffee.”

“I wanna go out now,” Peter whined, surrendering the mug back to Tony. “The blizzard is only a few states away.”

“It’s gonna be another day before it hits, Pete. Another hour or two won’t hinder our excursion,” Tony reasoned. “Besides, you need to eat. Did you just wake up?”

“11:30 isn’t unreasonable,” Peter hedged, smiling sheepishly at Tony’s disagreeing huff.

“Sam and Rhodey made pancakes; they’re on the stove. If you eat now, we can leave at one, how’s that?”

“12:30.”

“Sure, whatever, kid. Go eat.” Tony rolled his eyes, waving his hand towards the kitchen.

After Peter’s breakfast, the pair went upstairs to the room, changed into their heavy-duty snow clothes, bid Pepper and Morgan goodbye with a promise that they’d be back before dinnertime.

“Be safe,” Pepper hummed when she hugged Tony. “Let Peter know if anything is bothering you, okay?”

“Will do, m’lady,” Tony promised, kissing her before stooping to pick up Morgan.

“I wanna go with you,” Morgan pouted, her big eyes drooped and sad.

“Maybe next time, baby,” Tony said, bouncing her once. “Maybe you can get Uncle Rhodey to play dinosaurs with you. Or maybe Steve, because he_ is_ one.”

She giggled. “Mister Steve isn’t a dinosaur! That’s silly, Daddy.”

“Is it?” Tony asked. “Huh. He reminds _me _of a dinosaur. Maybe it’s his secret identity?”

Morgan’s face suddenly became gravely serious, as if Tony had just cracked the code to life. She gave Tony a distracted kiss on the cheek before struggling to be let down. She pattered to her bottom bunk, nabbed the dinosaur plushie from her pillow, and breezed past the three as much as a six-year old could ‘breeze’ and went off to go, presumably, find Steve and uncover the dinosaur conspiracy.

Peter looked after Morgan before glancing at Tony. “You make a convincing argument.”

“I’ve started something,” Tony sighed, and Pepper patted his flesh arm.

“And you get to deal with the fallout,” she promised, her toothed smile loving and challenging at the same time.

“Fair enough,” Tony acquiesced, clapping his hands together. The sound that rang out from the contact of metal against skin would always sound weird – off-putting. “Let’s go Peter.”

“Bye, Miss Potts!” Peter waved from the doorway before his form froze. “Wait, I mean –,”

Pepper shook her head and smiled at him, not letting him finish. “Bye Peter.” She looked at her husband. “Love you, have fun!”

“Love you too,” Tony said, blowing a kiss to her before following Peter down the stairs. By the time he reached the bottom, he could hear Morgan’s little voice asking Bucky about dinosaurs. Tony and Peter were out the door before they could hear Bucky’s encouragingly conniving response.

When the pair stepped out of the cabin, they were both met by chilly, but still mountain air. The sky was mostly bright blue, only a smattering of dark clouds swirling far in the west, distant enough to not be of concern. Four days’ worth of snow was packed around the cabin, though it was relatively the same height as it was when they had arrived. Faint indents of snow angels and pockets of snowball carvings marred the otherwise pristine surface of the snow. At the end of the property, where a small hill crested by the roadside, a snowman sat, coal eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. Tony took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the frigid air before exhaling, white vapor curling in front of his mouth. Peter did the same thing, though with the added effect of raising his hands and curling his fingers to look like claws. “I feel like a dragon.”

“Well, I hope your shapeshifting comes to use if we meet that yeti,” Tony commented, walking off the porch and into the crunchy snow.

“Maybe if I just _act _like a dragon, he’ll just think I’m crazy and it’ll scare him off,” Peter said, bounding off the stairs, kicking up snow with his feet as he walked by Tony’s side. “I know that if someone did that on _my _front lawn, I’d give them the keys to my house and move two-hundred miles away.”

“You know the police exist in this universe, right?”

“It’s the principle, Mr. Stark.”

Tony laughed as they started their gradual decline down the mountain, following the dark asphalt of the road. “Whatever you say, kid.”

///

After about 20 minutes of walking, the pair came to a fork in the road. One went further down the mountain, which was the road that the limo took four days ago. The other road went off towards the right, curling between trees instead of open air. It looked like it went up the mountain, possibly leading to another piece of property. The pair took the road on the right.

It was slightly warmer walking on the side of that road, wind broken by the bodies of the evergreens that lined the edges of the road. The sun filtered through the branches, making golden patterns of light against the white of the snow. Besides the crunch of rocks, snow, and branches underfoot and Peter’s excited babbling, the forest was silent. Normally, silence would mean danger to Tony, but this kind of silence was calming. Quiet. It was quiet.

After about 40 more minutes of walking, the pair came to a break in the woods, the road bending further right, its side hugged by craggy mountain cliffs. The other side, however, was exposed to the open air, the path dropping off the side of the cliff. If it weren’t for the metal barrier that separated the road from the open air, unlucky cars that could be speeding by would careen off the cliff.

The view, however, was astonishing.

“Woah,” Peter breathed, bounding ahead of Tony. He planted his feet at the metal barrier, grasped the ridge of the plate and looked out and over. “I thought I could see for miles swinging through Queens. This…this is different.”

Tony made his way towards where Peter stood, naturally gathering the end of Peter’s jacket in his metal hand, securing the boy in his grasp. Peter didn’t seem to mind, and even leaned backwards a little, settling more on his arches than his toes.

The cliff wasn’t as steep of a drop as Tony once perceived it as, angling more as a steep slope downwards than a 90-degree sheer cliff. The rock was exposed here, spots of grey and red rock peeking out from the crevices of white snow. Little bits of dry brush clung to the rock faces; they were brittle compared to the lush of the evergreens. Trees bordered the edge of the slope, holding the rocks in place. Beyond that, the trees continued to spread, only interrupted by the jarring protrusions of mountain rock, the white capped tips blinding against the bright blue of the sky. The stark form of an eagle or hawk circled the edge of one of the cliffs, its broad wings catching the windless air. It adjusted its flight and swooped close to the treetops, just as soon vanishing between the branches.

Tony sighed.

Peter glanced over at Tony. “Do you miss it?”

Tony regarded Peter. “Miss what?”

“Flying,” Peter clarified, looking back over the landscape as the bird reappeared, powerful wings flapping to gain altitude. “Iron Man.”

“More than I can even say, kid,” Tony said, watching again as the bird vanished once again, this time behind the cliff face. It released a single cry, the sound echoing against the air of the open landscape. Tony hated that it sounded like a repulsor whine.

“If you could,” Peter said slowly, shifting his weight to a different foot. “Theoretically, go back to being Iron Man, would you?”

“_Theoretically_,” Tony said, the inflection of his tone making Peter’s lips quirk in a small smile. “I can do whatever I want. If Iron Man was the one thing in my life that I could never live without and I would feel purposeless without, yeah, I’d still be Iron Man.”

The moment of hesitation was not lost on Peter. “But?”

“But I won’t because I have better things to live for,” Tony said, his throat clicking as he swallowed. If Peter noticed the grip on his jacket get a little tighter, he didn’t comment.

“Armor or not,” Peter said after a brief few moments of silence (no…quiet). “You’ll always be Iron Man.”

Tony hummed, because that was the only noise that he could make without having his voice crack with emotion. Peter must have sensed that because he leaned into Tony for a moment, the seam of warmth connecting them a base of comfort.

“Thanks, kid,” Tony finally managed, though the words still sounded strangled. Peter just smiled, leaning his head into Tony’s shoulder for a moment, just looking out across the landscape. Tony shut his eyes and breathed in, relishing in the small moment of intimacy. He realized that he had been doing that a lot since he woke up from his coma after he had snapped his fingers. The road to recovery was long and arduous. Nearly eleven months of intensive physical and mental therapy, not even including his time in the hospital. The only thing that really kept him afloat was moments like these, small and quiet. Genuine passages of emotion that reminded him that he was alive. His shattered heart was still beating, his ragged lungs were still breathing. And though his skin was marred, long tendrils of red and white scars, down his good arm, and some days existed where moving was hard, and the nightmares were cloying, he still had those moments. He had made a silent vow to himself that he’d never pass up another quiet moment like those. So, he didn’t. He stood at Peter’s side, felt the small tremors ripple through the layers of clothes Peter had on, and breathed.

“You wanna start heading back, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked softly after an indeterminate amount of time. When Tony opened his eyes again, the world looked softer, maybe darker. Tony blinked and looked at the skyline, seeing the mass of black clouds swirling closer – the storm was still about half a day away, but Tony knew better than to let Peter stew in his anxiety.

“Sure, Peter. You cold?”

Peter shook his head. “Not really. Just, yanno, the storm.” The kid said that last part almost sheepishly.

Tony patted Peter’s hip once before turning back down the road. “Don’t worry, kid. I get’cha.”

Peter took a few more moments to look over the landscape before jogging to fall into step beside Tony. Together, they made their way back towards the cabin.

///

Peter stopped abruptly about fifteen minutes later. Tony almost didn’t stop, figuring that the kid had just noticed an animal or a cool plant nearby. Or far away. Tony could never be sure with the heightened senses that the kid had. A few moments passed, however, of sheer silence (no, not quiet this time. This was silence) so Tony stopped and turned, peering at Peter who was rooted in the middle of the road, face drawn in a concentrated frown.

“Hey, you okay, kid?” Tony called, starting to make his way back up to Peter.

“Sorry,” Peter said after a moment, shaking his head as if trying to clear something from his mind. “Someone’s tires squealed and it kinda startled me.”

Tony matched Peter’s frown. “Echo?”

Peter didn’t answer for a moment, eyes flickering between the trees, the sky, the cliff face at the side of the road. “Dunno,” he admitted after a few seconds. “Kinda hard to tell.”

Tony peered at Peter for a moment before shrugging, reaching for Peter’s arm with his left hand. “Probably just an idiot like me who likes to burn rubber for fun.”

As if Tony had pressed a button, the moment that his hand made contact with the skin on Peter’s arm, the distinct sound of screeching tires yowled from down the road. The pair jumped as if on a live wire and Tony whirled around.

Tony was barely able to comprehend the speeding hunk of metal that was a car screaming around the bend of the road before Peter was grabbing his left arm and yanking him out of the way. The rumbling of the vehicle filled Tony’s ears and the cloying scent of blackened rubber clogged the rest of his senses. The car whizzed past harmlessly, though the blast of sensation was jarring. A powdery cloud of snow exploded behind the rear tires, like a bomb of wet and cold tear gas. Tony took an instinctual step backwards and his stomach dropped as his foot met air.

Gravity folded in and his arms struck outwards, scrabbling for a hold on something that wasn’t there. He tried to put all the weight in his left foot, which was still rooted to the ground, and twist so he would land on his right side instead of backwards and downwards, but the mud beneath his foot gave way and he landed on his back, the wind exploding out of his lungs in a white puff of air. His head, for better or worse, met nothing. Heart in his throat, he dug his fingers into the soft dirt at his side, feeling the mud starting to conform to the shape of his body. Taking a difficult breath in, he looked around, trying to find Peter, and he panicked when he couldn’t see him. He bent his head backwards as far as he dared, trying to see his fate if the mud were to slide. Beneath him, it was a sheer, mud-faced cliff, twenty-five feet down.

Thoroughly panicked, he dug his heels into the mud, and instantly regretted it. He could feel the earth shift forward, edging him closer to the lip of the cliff. He knew he had the core strength to sit up, but combined with the angle of his body pointed downwards and the high chance that the earth would shift again as he moved his weight to his hips, the best he could do for now was hold on and look for Peter.

Tires squealed in the distance. The sound made him angry.

“Peter!” he screamed, his voice echoing off the rocks. “Peter! Where are you?”

Peter didn’t answer, but the earth sure did. Tony wasn’t sure what happened. Assumedly, his weight was too much to bear and the mud and rock gave way beneath him. For a split moment, the weightlessness was familiar and welcoming. But then gravity took over. All he could do was cradle his head in his metal arm and hope Peter was okay.

All he could see was the wormhole.

He hit the ground. He felt a sharp flare of pain wrench through the right side of his body as it struck the rock, but it was only a drop in the bucket as his brain tapped out and he was whisked into dark.

///

He woke up in the cabin.

At first, he wasn’t sure if he was seeing correctly. His vision was swimming and black spots kept speckling the edges of his eyes, but the roof above his head was solid, round logs of brown wood supporting the weight of the stone above. After he concluded that he was relatively safe, he dropped off into sleep again.

When he woke up for the second time, he was more aware. He could feel the cocooning warmth of a thick comforter and the gentle rattle of the heater blowing warm air throughout the room. He could hear the groans of a window somewhere in the room, gusts of wind battering the panels from the outside. The blizzard must’ve come.

The right side of his body ached, though it was distant, more like a giant bruise than actual pain. He flexed his toes just to make sure. His right foot ached something fierce, but the pain wasn’t unmanageable. He rolled his shoulders tentatively and found that his right shoulder was pinned beneath something. He turned his head and saw Peter, stripped to his t-shirt and jeans. The boy was curled towards him, his head angled downwards, his nose squished against the junction between Tony’s shoulder and pectoral. Peter’s right hand was laying close to Tony’s neck, his fingers brushing the hairs there when Tony inhaled. The rest of his body was pressed against Tony’s side, one leg crooked over Tony’s thigh. Tony couldn’t tell if the position was born out of a need to comfort himself or a need to defend Tony. Either option had an element of nervous tension to it, but no danger stood out to Tony.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony whispered, wriggling his arm out from under Peter. It was only when he attempted to put his arm around Peter that he realized he didn’t have it. The prosthetic was gone, leaving behind only a scarred stump of shoulder. Even the pressure marks from the prosthetic were long gone.

Then, the event came crashing back to Tony. The car, Peter vanishing, Tony falling. Tony took another glance about the room they were in, realizing with a start that dropped his stomach that this wasn’t their cabin; it was someone else’s.

“Kid, wake up,” Tony hissed, unraveling his left arm from where it was coiled up in the bedsheets to grab at Peter’s shoulder. “Now’s no time for a nap, up and at ‘em.”

Peter remained motionless for a few moments before taking in a shaky inhale. The boy’s legs straightened as he stretched, his body quaking before he relaxed again. “S’too early,” he whined, though the words were nearly too garbled for Tony to understand.

“It’s 5 PM,” Tony said, though he couldn’t even begin to guess the time. There were no clocks in the room and the sky past the window was a torrent of grey and white. He just needed the kid awake.

“Forreal?” Peter hummed, his head lifting from Tony’s arm, though his eyes were still shut. Tony noticed a square of gauze was plastered to his forehead, held down with clear tape. Tony gently brushed two knuckles across the patch. There was no blood that Tony could see, even beneath the patch, though the kid was sporting a mean bruised jaw. Other than that, the kid seemed okay.

“At least you’ve taken care of yourself,” Tony mused as Peter blinked sleep out of his eyes. “Better than I would. Did you find supplies? Or the homeowner?”

Peter’s gaze sharpened ever so slightly, and he looked Tony in the face, confused. “What?” Then, the kid seemed to notice something odd, if the furrow of his brow was anything to go on. “Your face is all scratched up.”

Tony smiled despite himself. “We took a mean tumble off a cliff, kid, I can’t imagine coming out of that clean.”

“Oh,” Peter said after a second, but it was though he didn’t quite understand what Tony was saying. “Am I all scratched up?”

Something pinged at the back of Tony’s mind. “I mean, your chin’s all bruised up,” Tony began slowly. “And you must have a mean cut on your head to constitute gauze. Did you not look in the mirror when you fixed yourself up? You’re not concussed, are you?”

“Gauze?” Peter said, raising his hand to pat at his forehead, pausing contemplatively when his fingers brushed the cloth. He frowned and then lowered his hand to examine his fingers. “I didn’t do that.”

Tony stared at him, a weird feeling settling in his chest. “Are you sure? Or do you just not remember?”

Peter’s frown deepened and he looked about the room as if it was the first time that he was seeing it. “I don’t recognize this place,” he said, his voice edging a hint of panic. “Mr. Stark, where are we?”

“I was hoping you would know,” Tony told him honestly. “I thought you had fixed yourself up with some supplies you found here. I guess someone else is here.”

Peter sat up; nervous energy was evident in his eyes.

“Hey,” Tony said consolingly, his grasp sliding down to hold Peter’s wrist securely. “If they meant us harm, they would’ve done it already; and they wouldn’t have done that.” Tony nodded his head towards the gauze on Peter’s head. “They probably just found us and are sheltering us from the storm.”

The words soothed Peter a little, even though Tony was only half-certain about all the things he had said. He didn’t think it would behoove anyone to suggest that kidnappers sometimes needed their captives in full health before putting them through the wringer, or that kindness was a gift in return for complacency. Startling as the thoughts were, at least they were alive, warm, and somewhat taken care of; small gifts. They’d cross that bridge when they got there.

“Are you okay?” Tony asked after Peter took a few calming breaths of his own instruction. The boy nodded, returning Tony’s gaze.

“The bruise hurts the worst,” he admitted, rocking his jaw from side to side, discomforted but not agonized. “Your, uh –,” Peter started, a sympathetic and slightly haunted shadow crossing his eyes. “– your arm is gone.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Tony said, rolling the stump against the sheets. It didn’t hurt, at least. “Must’ve gotten knocked off when I fell.”

“You hurt?” Peter asked. Residual feelings of the need to dismiss, not involve, keep your pain to yourself sprung up, but after a second of wrestling the instinctual feeling away from the surface, Tony conceded. “My ankle might be sprained or broken. Other than that, nah.”

Peter seemed to accept that answer because he let out a single, shaky breath and nodded. Then, just as quickly as the boy’s anxiety subsided, Peter went ramrod, muscles bunched beneath his t-shirt.

“Pete?” Tony asked, alarmed, but Peter just shushed him. He lifted his arm and pointed towards the door on the opposite end of the room.

“They’re that way. I can hear them.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. They’re not speaking…sounds like they’re in the kitchen.”

Tony wrenched his eyes shut, straining to hear past the wind howling outside. Unfortunately, between his near-deaf right ear and his unenhanced nature, he couldn’t hear any human activity past Peter’s.

“Just stay close,” Tony said lowly, shuffling a little further up on the bed, more upright. “And don’t go all gung-ho on them if they come in. Could be a friendly.”

“Or a yeti,” Peter said, his voice so serious that Tony almost missed the joke.

“If it is a yeti,” Tony said, bemused despite the itch of anxiety that prodded at his heart. “You’d better win.”

Peter smiled minutely.

Nothing happened for almost five minutes, though Peter was tense the entire time. Tony noticed when something changed, though, because Peter’s anxious gaze became puzzled. He turned to Tony. “They’re cooking.”

“Really?” Tony said, trying to sound optimistic, though food preparation wasn’t a sign of much.

Peter hummed. “Soup or something. I can smell the broth.”

“Perfect for a cold winter’s day,” Tony offered, though Peter didn’t respond.

Three minutes later, Peter scrambled backwards, planting his back against the headboard, shoulder-to-shoulder with Tony. “They’re coming,” he breathed. Tony shifted slightly, wishing he could brace an arm across the boy. He compensated by angling his right shoulder forwards, angling his body to fit more between the door and Peter. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Footsteps approached the door before pausing at the threshold. The person knocked twice, two gentle little taps before the handle on the door turned. A face peeked through the opening of the door, a kind smile on their face. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Peter was rigid beside Tony, looking like a baby deer in the headlights. Tony cleared his throat and dredged up a smile, the same kind of smile he hadn’t used in years; bright, charming, and fake. “Not at all.”

The woman at the door breathed a sigh of relief, her face painstakingly genuine. “Oh good. I was worried that you two may have really been hurt. I may be able to wrap a sprained ankle and suture a cut, but I’m no nurse.”

Tony usually prided himself in being able to read people within moments of meeting them, but there was something about her demeanor, so casual and kind despite the situation that it disarmed him. He kept up the façade, but the kidnapping scenario seemed to be an idea born out of paranoia. “We really appreciate it,” he said, keeping to simple answers and remarks for now.

“I brought soup for you,” she said, still only about halfway through the doorway, like she was waiting for permission. “Chicken noodle. It’s not much, but I figured you two may be hungry.”

Tony looked to Peter at his side. The kid still looked nervous, but he didn’t look outright scared anymore. Peter glanced at Tony out of the corner of his eye and gave an almost imperceptible shrug.

“That sounds great, thank you,” Tony said, which he figured was her cue to enter.

The door creaked as it opened, revealing a simply dressed, portly woman. In her hands she carried a tray that had two bowls atop it, along with a few chunks of bread on a plate. There were also two glasses of water.

“Um,” Peter spoke up suddenly as she moved to the side of the bed furthest away from the boy. She paused and looked at Peter expectantly.

“Sorry,” he said self-consciously, wringing his hands tightly. “But could you…you know, the food…”

“Would you like me to try it?” she asked gently as she set the tray down at Tony’s side table. Peter looked at her, eyes wide, as if he hadn’t expected her to catch on. He nodded hesitantly.

“Sure, hon,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She walked across the room and out the door she entered. She closed it with a soft _snick. _

Tony couldn’t smother his amused expression. “I don’t think the food’s poisoned, Parker.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed slowly. “Better safe than sorry, I guess.”

Tony shrugged. “Whatever soothes you, kid.”

The woman returned about a minute later, a small plastic spoon in hand. She shut the door behind her and made her way back to the bedside table. She picked up a bowl, dipped her spoon, lifted it put it in her mouth. “Perhaps,” she said after she swallowed. “Too much salt. Hopefully that won’t bother you?” She extended the bowl across Tony towards Peter. Now that Tony could smell and see it, the soup did sound pretty appetizing.

“No ma’am,” Peter said, accepting the bowl in his hands. He set it carefully on his lap and accepted the clean spoon she offered to him. “Thank you.”

Tony almost rolled his eyes at the kid’s manners, amused by the kid’s innate politeness.

“No problem,” she said with a kind smile. She turned back to the tray and picked up the second bowl, treating it with the same test courtesy as she did with Peter’s. When she was done, she offered the bowl to Tony. “Mr. Stark,” she said.

“This’ll be fun,” Tony groused despite himself, carefully accepting the bowl with his left hand and setting it carefully in his lap.

“I’m sorry about your prosthetic, Mr. Stark,” she said, looking like she was itching to help him. “I couldn’t find it.”

“No biggie,” Tony said, putting a spoonful of broth in his mouth. She was right; it was a little too salty. He swallowed. “I’ll just make another.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” she said, almost dreamily. Tony ignored the inflection, used to it at this point. He did offer a smile, though still tinged with defensive barriers.

“How’d you find us?” Peter asked after a few seconds of companionable silence. The woman shifted her weight from one foot to the other and leaned her hip against the little table. “I was driving up to my house when I saw a jacket laying at the bottom of the cliff by the side of the road. At first, I thought that someone had just lost it, because that happens often enough, but someone, God I guess, told me to get out and go look.

“So, I park as far to the side of the road as I can and look down and, sure enough, I see this handsome young man –,” she paused to gesture to Peter. “– at the bottom. The place where I had seen you was a very steep drop down, but there was a path off to the side that was a little less drastic, so I took that. I get down the little slope and before I can even get to you, I almost stumble over Mr. Stark. The snow had almost melted completely in that area, so I wasn’t too concerned about hypothermia or whatnot, but a tumble like that could be quite dangerous. I made sure that you were okay and, yeah, I know you’re not supposed to move people after trauma like that, spinal injuries and whatnot, but I feared calling an ambulance up these ridges.

“I dragged you as carefully as I could back up the slope and put you in the backseat of my car. I did the same thing to the young man here. I drove with you two back up the road and took you into my home. Thankfully, the blizzard was still a couple hours away, so you two were comfy here before the storm hit. The phone lines have been cut though, so you’ll have to wait until the storm passes before you call anyone, unfortunately.”

“How long have we been here?” Peter asked in a way that seemed like he had been waiting to ask since she began her story.

“Well, you spent the night here,” she said. “The storm hit at about 4 AM. It’s about 12 PM now.”

Peter glared at Tony, though the expression was more exasperated than anything. Tony wrestled a smile into submission. “Not that we don’t appreciate the hospitality,” he said, sensing Peter rolling his eyes. “But what’s the projection of the storm? When can we hope for our daring rescue?”

She laughed, putting a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I mean, it is the mountains. It may be a couple days before the storm abates. I’m sorry.” She sounded forlorn.

“What can you do?” Tony sighed, eating another spoonful of soup. “Just hope Pep doesn’t think the worst.”

Something in the woman’s demeanor changed, almost like the mention of Tony’s wife had snapped her out of what was probably her best day yet. She saved face very well though, so Tony almost missed when her smile lost its vibrancy. “I’m sure she’s worried,” she said, her voice only slightly strained. “She’s good to you. She’s a wonderful woman.”

Tony couldn’t help but agree, despite the woman’s behavior. Though uncommon, even though he only had eyes for Pepper for more than ten years, people, women and men alike, sometimes pouted in his presence, wishing with a sigh of longing that they were the ones with him and not Pepper. He appreciated the gesture of awkward, albeit well-intentioned flirting, but it was always play. He knew that and they knew that. _Shoulda met me in the 90s, _he’d always think. “The best.”

Maybe that was the wrong answer to give because the woman’s eyes flashed for a second before she turned her gaze on Peter. When her eyes fell on the boy, though, they became soft and motherly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get a bed for you, baby. I might be able to find a cot you can lay on, though.”

“It’s fine, miss,” he said around a mouthful of noodles. “There are worse things.”

“You can call me Anne,” the woman said before straightening on her feet. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone for now. Just yell for me if you need something, and oh –!” She exclaimed, gesturing over to the tray at the bedside table. “Don’t forget the bread; fresh sourdough!”

“Thank you for your help, Anne,” Tony said genuinely, meeting her gaze. “Glad that you found us before we pulled a Captain America.”

“It’s no problem,” she laughed. “I’ll keep an eye on the storm. I’ll let you know if something changes.”

“Sounds good,” Tony said, watching as she walked towards the door. She opened it, paused, and looked back to the two of them. She met Tony’s eyes, a grave sort of melancholy filling her expression.

“I, uh,” she said softly, drumming her fingers against the door. “I just wanted to say thank you…for everything you’ve done for us, Mr. Stark. I can’t imagine how difficult it’s been for you since Thanos, but I hope you can sleep well knowing what you’ve done for us.”

Tony, despite hearing the similar condolences from hundreds of other people over the past couple years, smiled, still just as moved as he was each and every time. “I do,” he said. “And you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do.”

Anne nodded and smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Her gaze was still sad and longing. “Call if you need anything,” she said before parting, closing the door softly. The wind howled outside.

“Soup’s actually pretty good,” Peter remarked after a second, nibbling absently on his spoon. Tony leaned over and noticed that his bowl was almost empty. Tony grabbed his own bowl in his hand and set it inside Peter’s near emptied one, still about halfway full of soup. Peter glared at him. “You need to eat, man.”

Tony leaned over to the bedside table, putting his spoon on the tray, and grabbed a chunk of bread. He turned back to Peter and raised the piece like he was giving a toast. “Less work. Plus, your metabolism is batshit.”

Peter rolled his eyes but accepted the explanation. “She seemed nice, at least.”

“She’s not keen on killing us, that’s for sure,” Tony joked, biting the bread. He regretted the words when Peter flinched slightly. “Pete, I think if something were to go wrong, you could fend her off.”

“It’s just a…weird situation.”

“Better than becoming human popsicles.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. For some reason, he didn’t seem enthusiastic.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Tony asked, starting to become a little concerned about the kid’s behavior. “Something I’m not seeing? Sensing, whatever?”

Peter huffed out a frustrated breath, though it wasn’t directed at Tony. He opened his mouth a few times, struggling to find a way to word his feelings. Eventually, Tony saw when he gave up because his shoulders dropped, and he lowered his eyes. “I don’t like this storm.”

The explanation was half-hearted at best, but Tony trusted Peter enough that the kid would tell him if something about the situation was seriously wrong.

“Sorry, kid,” Tony said, nudging him with his right shoulder. “We’re here for the haul, I think.”

“In that case,” Peter said, picking up the stacked bowls and placing them on his own bedside table. “I’m gonna see if there’s any games in here. Pass the time.” He got up and walked to the dresser situated by the door, opening one of the drawers. Tony finished his bite of bread and stretched his left arm, glad to feel that his body didn’t feel like it was ground in the mill, and even more glad to see that Peter was walking normally.

Peter closed the drawer, opened another, and gave a soft “ah.”

“What’s the poison of choice, Parker?”

“Uh,” Peter said, rummaging through the contents. “There’s Monopoly, UNO…mmm, checkers and…I think… wow, and Cards Against Humanity.”

“Not a great array, then,” Tony said.

“Excuse you,” Peter reprimanded. “Cards Against Humanity is great. And, hello? UNO? UNO hit different.”

“I can’t hold cards, kid,” Tony laughed and when Peter looked back at him, he could see a sheepish smile on the kid’s face.

“That’s a you problem.”

“Sure is.”

“Monopoly then,” Peter said, lifting the tattered box out of the drawer. He trotted back over to the bed and dropped the box on the comforter.

“Maybe you should’ve picked checkers,” Tony said as Peter sat down and lifted the lid. He looked over at Tony, concerned.

“Wait, why?”

“Cuz I’m gonna smoke you.”

“Hey,” Peter said, relaxing, eyes bright with mirth. “I can play a mean game of Monopoly.”

“Yeah, and which one of us is a billionaire?”

“This is workplace discrimination,” Peter muttered, opening the board and setting it as flat as he could against the sheets. He picked up a little bag that contained the colorful paper currency.

Tony shook his head, chuckling. “Just warning you, kid.” He reached over and plucked the little metal car from the box.

“If I win,” Peter said, opening the baggy and starting to sort through the bills. “I should get 25% equity at SI.”

“Equity?” Tony laughed. “Aren’t you, like, six? You still rummage through your piggy bank for lunch money, I bet.”

Peter clutched his chest dramatically. “Mr. Stark if you don’t stop att’ing me right now, I will walk into the blizzard. On God.”

Tony couldn’t stitch together that sentence if he tried, but he always liked to see the kid laughing. “Besides, that’s something to take up with Pepper, not me.”

“She’d give me 50% on principle.”

“She absolutely would _not. _Give me my money, Parker!” Tony snapped, awkwardly trying to steal the paper from Peter’s hands.

“Spoken like a true billionaire,” Peter said, dreamily sarcastic, though he let Tony snatch the bills.

“Little shit,” Tony muttered, and Peter snorted. Tony tucked the bills underneath the closest side of the board, arranged by colors and looked at the game piece in his hand. It was a 1930s Kurtis Kraft Roadster, the fake silver paint scuffed black in places. He frowned at it.

Peter looked up from where he was dividing his own money. He glanced down at Tony’s hand for a moment before searching Tony’s face for whatever answer he was looking for. He gave a huff of confused disbelief, hands stilling and eyes flummoxed. “What happened back there, Mr. Stark?”

Tony shook his head. He turned the trinket between his forefinger and thumb, examining it as if it had the answers he was looking for. “I’m not sure, kid,” he said with a quiet sigh. “I think it was just some idiot who didn’t know how to drive in snow.”

“Or at all,” Peter mumbled.

Tony quirked his lips unpleasantly. “Or at all.”

There was a moment of silence. The wind battered the planes of the window.

“You don’t think someone was, you know,” Peter started, hesitantly, like the words he was about to say would instigate something bad. “Trying to…kill you?”

“If they were,” Tony said, dropping the car back in the box. He picked up the rocking horse instead. “They failed.”

“As should be expected,” Peter said. Tony looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re notoriously hard to kill,” the kid finished, tucking his paper money under the board, his expression warring between concern and something else, an emotion Tony couldn’t quite place. Something distant. Maybe fearful.

“That I am,” Tony agreed. “And I think I’m even more invincible when a certain spider kid is at my side.”

“It’s a placebo,” Peter mumbled, though the abashed smile he was desperately trying to hide was cracking through the ice of dismission on his face.

“I believe in it,” Tony said softly. “So, doesn’t that make it true?”

Peter didn’t answer, but he gave Tony a small smile, filled with quiet, unspoken adoration. Tony gave him his own gentle smile before Peter looked away, abashed. He reached into the box and picked up the small Scottie dog.

///

Anne had come back about five hours later, provided lasagna (which Tony could tell had been microwaved, but he was in no position to complain) and gave them a cold pitcher of water. She, again, offered her condolences for the storm, the dark phone lines, the single bed, and expressed her thankfulness for Tony’s actions in the Snap again, which Tony thought was a little redundant, but who was he to judge. She gave them a little bedside, battery-run clock before she left the room, bidding a good night with a smile. Fat snowflakes flickered like stars against the blackening sky, safe behind the chilly window glass.

Tony had hobbled to the bathroom, his ankle twinging as he tried to put weight on it. It had carefully been wrapped and though it hurt like a bitch, it wasn’t broken. Tony was thankful for small mercies. Thankfully, the bathroom was attached to the room, a small, tiled space with a relatively clean toilet and sink. It felt good to move after a few hours of laying relatively still. He splashed his face with water, dried himself, and looked in the mirror. It still always was a shock to look at himself nowadays. Half of his face was crossed with red scars, travelling from his amputated arm up to almost the crown of his head. He was thankful that his eye hadn’t been damaged, but his ear had been torn to shreds. It still looked like an ear, thanks to Cho, but the inner workings were almost completely botched. There were places on his scalp where hair refused to grow, and any hair that did grow now was grey. And, sure enough, small cuts from his most recent accident marked up his face, but he was confident that they wouldn’t scar. He grimaced, shook his head, and walked back into the room where Peter was playing absently with a silver game piece. Tony sat back down on the bed, Peter stood up and took his place in the bathroom, came back after a few minutes (he had taken his gauze off, revealing a thin, red line beneath), and then they continued their evening.

Peter and Tony finished their dinner and played their game of Monopoly until the boy was near broke. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Tony laughed when Peter wordlessly and without prompt started to put the measly remains of his bills back into the baggie. “No equity for you.”

“I’m pretty sure this constitutes as child abuse,” Peter grumbled playfully. Tony leaned back on the headboard and let Peter clear the game. “Also, the fact that you never went to jail is not okay.”

“Who says I’ve never been to jail?”

It took Peter a moment. When he got it, he glared at Tony with a mixture of shock and amusement. “I cannot _believe_ that I have to specify that I was talking about _Monopoly_ jail.”

Tony just laughed, watching as Peter stood up from the bed, the game in his hands. “Lead with that next time.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” Peter laughed, putting the game back in the dresser drawer. “Also, don’t say ‘next time.’ There better not be a ‘next time.’”

“Kid, I can barely _run _anymore, let alone commit crimes.”

Peter was quiet at that. He gazed back at Tony, that distant look clouding his eyes again.

Tony sighed; his voice was gentle. “Peter, I’m fine. Don’t be upset about things that didn’t happen. I’m right here. Just because things are _different, _doesn’t mean they’re bad.”

Peter shook his head. “I know, I’m – I’m sorry, it’s just that…I _remember _looking at you just…” he drew in a shuddering breath. “…lying there and you…you could barely _talk _–,”

“Pete…”

“That moment,” Peter continued, tears welling in his eyes, so far away from Tony it made the man physically ache. “I thought I was going to lose my…my _father_ again and I…_God_…I almost didn’t have the strength to say goodbye. And even today that – that car went by and I couldn’t get my bearings, everything was _too much _and – and I…I –.” Peter broke, then, covering his eyes with one shaking hand, breathing wetly, clearly trying to keep himself from spiraling.

“Peter, come here,” Tony said, keeping his voice level, though his heart was aching so bad it rivaled Siberia.

Peter hesitated, like he suddenly realized that he had broken down, and heaved a wet sigh. Keeping his hand over his eyes, he made his way back to the bed. Tony scooted over, ankle flaring slightly, before Peter crumpled onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around Tony like an octopus. Tony wished he could hug the kid like he used to be able to, but he had to settle on just wrapping his left hand around the boy’s forearm, thumb rubbing against his skin in a way he hoped was comforting.

“I know it was scary,” Tony whispered, and Peter just buried his head tighter into Tony’s clavicle. “I cannot even begin to imagine what that felt like, but take your genius brain out of the ‘what ifs’ for a moment and _breathe. _Just breathe…”

The heater continued to rattle, the generator on the other side of the house humming just barely on the edge of Tony’s hearing. The wind outside was not as intense as it was earlier, but it still rattled the window, the outdoors landscape quiet otherwise. He could even hear the tinny static of a television somewhere within the house. Tony knew Peter could hear _so _much more. With the way that the boy’s ear was pressed against Tony’s chest, he was sure the boy was probably listening to his heartbeat, his breath, maybe even the blood humming through his veins. Maybe, if the boy strained, he could even hear Anne’s breathing or maybe there was a lone deer outside, delicate hooves crunching quietly through the sheet of fresh snow.

“This is real,” Tony whispered, his voice loud against the quiet. “I am real, you are real, and sure, things are different, but I am happy, Pete. I don’t regret a moment and…” Tony paused a second, wondering if he should even cross the line he was about to step over. “…if I _had _died, I still wouldn’t regret it if it meant that you’d be safe. You are the one thing in my life that I never second-guessed, kid.”

“I’m glad you didn’t die,” Peter murmured. “Because I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“You would have done _amazing _things Peter.” Tony moved his hand to sink his fingers into the boy’s curly hair. “You _will _do amazing things.”

Peter seemed to consider that before Tony felt the boy smile against his skin, though he could sense the smile was still wrought with sadness. “The less trauma, the better.”

“I will not argue with that, kid. I will not argue with that.”

///

By the time Peter fell asleep, it was close to 11 PM. He was still wrapped around Tony, though it was less desperate than it was before. Tony was dropping off fast, secured by the feeling of the kid’s deep breathing. He was almost at the edge of sleep when he heard the bedroom door open. He saw the yellow hallway light from behind his eyelids, but he didn’t have the strength to open them. He heard Anne moving about the room, as quiet as she could manage with the creaky floorboards beneath her feet. She moved each side of the bed, gathering the dirty plates and cutlery before walking out of the room again, leaving the door open. Tony almost grumbled at the intrusion of light, but he knew that he was tired enough to ignore it.

He was about to drop off again, but Anne’s shadow split the light as she walked into the room again. She walked to Tony’s side of the bed and fell completely silent. Tony could feel his heart growing heavy in his chest, anxiety making the blood start to hum in his ears. His hearing sharpened, trying to determine if it would be better to “wake up” or just stay “sleeping.” He chose the latter after hearing nothing but her soft breathing.

She stood there for a long couple moments, standing absolutely still, and just breathing. Tony was about to crack his eyes open and leave the façade, but then he felt her fingers sink into his hair and then he fought to keep his breath even. Her touch was gentle, and it would have been calming if it didn’t make Tony’s insides feel slimy and invaded. She twined one curl of hair around her finger, and Tony couldn’t help shifting a little in the bed, still trying desperately to make it appear like he was asleep. Her hand paused, and after a few seconds, it was removed. Tony’s heart was beating so loud he was afraid that she’d hear. She gave no sign of catching on as she stood there for a few more long moments. Then, after what felt like an eon, she heaved a sigh, a sound that straddled dreamy and longing, before turning to leave. She did, however, graze gentle knuckles across Tony’s cheek before taking her leave. It felt like acid on his skin. It was only after that did she walk out into the hallway, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

Tony released a breath and he was embarrassed that it came out as a whimper. He covered his face with his hand and took another heaving breath, desperate to calm himself and figure out what the fuck had just happened.

He was no stranger to unsolicited touches, being the focal point of men and women since he was of legal age (a few moments occurred before that turn, which were the moments Tony chose not to remember), but this was different. Many of the touches before his “awakening” in 2008 were sensual; promising moments of pleasure followed by an indeterminate amount of time of loneliness or regret. After that, the touches persisted, but he felt less inclined to reciprocate and after he and Pepper became an item, the moments were few and far between. Sure, the occasional drunk person would sloppily try to brush their fingers in places they didn’t belong, but everybody knew that he was well beyond those times.

Then, especially in moments since the Snap, the touches were no longer sensual, but they were comforting and thankful. They were hugs, they were firm yet sympathetic handshakes, they were shoulder pats – he could say with conviction that those moments were much better than those _other _moments; they lasted longer, and they never soured after a period of time. The only sensual moments he allowed anymore was from Pepper (he would really let that woman do _anything _to him) and Rhodey (though all of it was for play; Pepper was always amused by it).

_That_ touch, though, was so wildly foreign he didn’t know how to compartmentalize it. If he didn’t know any better, he might’ve thought that touch was almost _motherly. _Even though Maria had been distant when he was young, she was better than Howard. There were small moments between her and Tony where she truly allowed herself to love him, petting his head, hugging him, telling him how _proud _she was. The gentle, simple moments were the ones he had craved for a long, long time. At this point now, though, the memories were foggy, almost like the moments had been a dream. There was a part of him that wished he could remember better, past the fresher memories of her gasping, dying breaths, but the memories of the family he had now were better worth remembering.

But no, _motherly _didn’t quite sit right. A _motherly _touch, unsolicited or not, shouldn’t have left him feeling like his intestines were shrinking. The more he ruminated on the touch, the more he came to realize that he had experienced a similar feeling before, but not for a long time. He had completely forgot what an invitation from someone he didn’t know felt like. The touch wasn’t outright sexual (if it had been, Tony would’ve probably hit her), but she touched him as if she had known him for _years _– as if they had been _together._

Tony didn’t think he recognized her. If they had met at one point, she probably would have said something, especially if they had rolled in the sack together. Then again, Tony wasn’t known for remembering a lot of his sexual partners so the grey area there was vast. But the way she had reacted with him mentioning Pepper was somewhat odd; maybe it was jealousy? Maybe she wanted to be in Pepper’s place? While not an unfathomable idea, it was still misplaced, like the puzzle pieces weren’t quite aligning. It was almost like she wanted something – something that had less to do with Pepper and more to do with her.

“Waz’ wrong?”

Tony startled slightly at Peter’s voice, dropping his hand to look at him. The boy’s head was still on his chest and his eyes were still closed. Tony wasn’t 100% sure the kid had said anything at all.

“Did somethin’ hap’n?”

Tony swallowed and tried to control his breathing. “No, kid. Everything’s good.” He was proud of himself that his voice didn’t shake.

Tony thought he felt Peter frown. “Your breathin’ got all…mm weird. Jus’ makin’ sure.”

“I’m good, kid,” Tony said, and this time, his voice was a little less believable. “Sorry I woke you.”

“S’okay Mr. Stark.” The kid snuggled a little closer. “G’night. Love ya.”

Tony breathed out, suddenly realizing the reality of the situation that the pair of them were in. They might have been kidnapped after all. And if that touch had meant what he was thinking it meant, he would do anything in his power to make sure Peter would never be involved.

The less trauma, the better.

“Love you too kid,” he choked out and he was thankful that the kid had already slipped back into dreamland.

Tony did not sleep a wink.

///

Tony tried to come up with a plan, some sort of tangible idea of how they were going to get out of this, but by the time the sun came up, he was still trying to not concentrate on how his cheek still felt like it was burning.

The sky got light (which meant that the clouds became less black) and Peter roused from his sleep. He untangled his limbs from Tony, stretched them, and then curled up again. It was about 9 AM. “Hiya Tony.”

“Morning kiddo,” Tony said, almost cringing at how flat his voice was. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Peter said after a moment, tone suspicious. Tony knew he had been caught. He wasn’t as good at lying as he had been in the past. Damn kids. “You okay? How did you sleep?”

Tony opened his mouth to say something, words that he couldn’t tell were about to be a lie or not, before someone knocked on the door. Tony instantly froze and that startled Peter. Acting quickly, Tony schooled his face and took a quick breath.

“The kid’s still sleeping,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “Do you need anything?” Peter looked at Tony incredulously, mouth slightly agape.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Anne said gently through the door. “I was just wondering what you guys wanted for breakfast.”

“I’ll let you know once the kid wakes up. Picky children, you know,” Tony said with an absurdly fake laugh.

“Oh, I understand for sure,” Anne said with a genuine chuckle, followed by a long sigh. “My youngest was the same. Would only eat chicken nuggets and macaroni.”

There was a lot to unpack in that sentence, but Tony didn’t have any time to pick it apart before she spoke again: “Just have him come out whenever you guys want to eat. The kitchen is just past the living room on the right. Can’t miss it.”

“Thank you, Anne,” Tony said, the words sticking to the lining of his throat.

“No problem, Tony,” she responded. She moved away from the door, walking to where the living room presumably was, and Tony let out a shudder before sinking boneless on the bed.

Peter was still staring at Tony, flabbergasted and slightly afraid. “Mr. Stark what are you doing?”

Tony took a breath, trying to think of a way to break this as gently as he could, but with the way that Peter was looking at him and with the way that his cheek stung, he couldn’t think of anything past the need to get out as soon as possible.

“She’s not what she seems,” Tony settled on and, clearly, Peter did not like hearing that.

“Why? What are you talking about?”

“I’m not sure of her intentions, Peter,” Tony lied. “But I know that she is not who she is presenting herself as.”

“Like…a skrull?” Peter hedged with a vast amount of discomfort and fear.

“No, not like that.” Tony waved his hand, trying to expel his nervous energy. “She’s as human as they get, which is lucky for us, but she’s not entirely the knight in shining armor we thought she was.”

“Then who is she?” Peter said, his dark eyes searching Tony’s face. Tony could almost feel the boy’s muscles shaking with Spider-Man strength begging to be used, but Tony hoped it would never come to that.

“I don’t know,” Tony said and though it wasn’t a lie, it still felt like one. “But once this snowstorm is over, we need to get out.”

“What happens if we don’t?”

And, God, that was something that Tony didn’t even want to ruminate on.

“I’m Iron Man, kid,” Tony said with a wide grin and he felt sick to his stomach using it on Peter. “If I can fight my way out of a terrorist’s cave, I can get us out of this house.”

Tony could tell that Peter was not entirely convinced, like he knew that Tony was omitting something from the story. Sometimes Tony wished that the kid wasn’t so damn smart.

“Okay. I thought there was something off about her,” Peter agreed, clearly choosing not to push it, though he still looked deeply disturbed. “Does she know that you’re onto her?”

“No,” Tony said. “So just keep being the annoying teenager you are, and you’ll be okay. I’ll figure something out.”

“Don’t keep me out of the loop,” Peter said almost warningly, and the serious expression would’ve been hilarious if it weren’t for the situation. “Because I know how much you _love _to do that.”

“I won’t,” Tony replied, the lie burning sharply in his chest. Peter nodded and laid his head back on the pillow, eyes glazing over like he was deep in thought.

A couple of minutes of relative silence passed which Tony spent trying to concentrate on Peter’s breathing. Then, a thought struck him.

“Can you hear anyone else?” Tony asked Peter.

Peter raised his head and tilted it; his eyes were pinched. “Like, besides her?”

“She mentioned her ‘youngest,’” Tony clarified. “Just a few minutes ago. I was just wondering if they were here as well.”

Peter blinked and then turned his gaze to stare just over Tony’s shoulder, clearly concentrating. It was only a couple seconds of that strange, distant look before Peter looked back at Tony. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Maybe her youngest is adult age? Moved out?”

Tony supposed it was a possibility, and probably the most probable probability, but the saddened sigh that preceded her comment caused a darker thought to swirl. The child could be dead. Even thinking that caused his brain to light up it’s ‘what if’ nightmare machine and he had to take a long, steadying breath to extinguish it.

“It seems tough to live alone out here, though,” Tony commented, words only a little strained. “She hasn’t mentioned a husband or wife or whatever.”

Something in his words made Peter’s mouth quirk in displeasure and he chewed his lip. “Some people aren’t lucky enough to have their family with them…you know that.”

Tony was pretty sure Peter was alluding to himself and his rough history involving his family, but he could easily apply those words to his own experiences. That cloying loneliness was something he didn’t care to experience again.

Another lightbulb went off in his head. Maybe the weird experience last night, the invasive but physically unharmful touch that he thought was of lust or something just as dark wasn’t that at all; perhaps it was just good, old-fashioned loneliness. He couldn’t even hope to count the amount of times he’d been desperate for comfort, or friendship, or even something as simple as human touch – all of that, though, was mostly his own fault. He actively distanced himself out of fear of rejection or harm, something born out of the early years of his life. Even though he craved it so much it hurt, he was so afraid of being hurt again he figured the safety was worth the pain. Eventually, he got out of that weird, self-hating bullshit, but it took decades of his closest friends tearing down his walls quicker than he could rebuild them. But _forced_ loneliness, the kind of loneliness that couldn’t be mended, was something else entirely. Living on a mountain by yourself, children to speak of but none of them around, no partner, no pets, miles from civilization – that was the life of a person who had lost something (or someone) and crumbled. Tony was lucky enough to have Jarvis, and then Rhodey, and then Pepper, and then the Avengers, and then Peter, and now he had people he could easily call family; even though it sometimes didn’t feel like it, he always had someone in his corner. Anne might not have been so lucky. If last night was anything to go by, maybe Tony and Peter had been the first people in god knows how long she had been in contact with. That very nearly broke Tony’s heart.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Tony sighed. “Maybe she’s just lonely.”

Peter nodded and, just then, his stomach growled. Peter grimaced and Tony looked at him amusedly. “Hungry?”

Peter rolled his eyes, but his look sobered after a second. “Do you still think it’s safe? To eat?”

After realizing that Anne’s behavior last night was probably a side-effect of bone-crushing loneliness, Tony nodded. “For sure,” he said, jutting his chin towards the door. “Go find Anne and get some food for us. I’m gonna wash up a little. If you come back with that colorful, sugary, concrete-textured cereal you insist is food, I will throw you in the snowstorm.”

“The most interesting cereal this woman probably owns is Raisin Bran,” Peter said, swinging his legs over the bed and standing. “Seems like her kind of vibe.”

“I’m not gonna say you’re wrong, Pete,” Tony said, listening to Peter offer a small chuckle before opening the door. He seemed to have a small moment of panic because suddenly he whirled around to look at Tony, an antsy sort of fear flashing in his eyes.

“If she wanted to kill us,” Tony reiterated, staring at Peter steadily. “She would’ve done so already. Grab some food, ask about the weather; think about it like an undercover mission. Oh, also –,” Tony said as Peter turned to leave. He dropped his voice a little. “Check to see if the phones work and tell me if she does anything misplaced.” Tony knew that Peter could defend himself, and Tony also knew that Anne’s touchiness was not as malicious as he had first thought, but it still made him nervous to send him out into the unknown. He would’ve done it himself if he could walk further than ten feet without his right leg almost giving out.

Peter nodded and walked out the door, closing it gently behind him.

Tony looked out the window, watching as snow continued to fall. Though it was a heavy snowfall, almost whiting out the window completely, the wind had died down significantly, just a gentle hum against the cabin. They were on the first floor (if there was a second floor at all, Tony couldn’t discern), given that the snowy ground rose just above the bottom of the window, a good four feet. It would be difficult to traverse on foot, for sure, especially since Tony wasn’t sure where Anne had put their snow gear. Besides, Peter was particularly sensitive to cold and Tony wasn’t keen on placing bets with even his own health past his wrenched ankle; so, if they could manage to contact someone with snowmobiles or a car equipped to travel a mountainside, that would be ideal. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, Tony knew, but they didn’t have much a choice; Tony wasn’t sure where they were, how far away their cabin was, and was even less sure about their survivability in the below freezing temperatures and the walls of snow, given that they could be hiding delicate cliffs. Tony didn’t want to tempt fate on a second tumble.

Hopefully, the phones worked. In theory, they should if they were corded (if those even _existed_ anymore), even if the house was running on a generator (which it was, Tony could hear it). A 6,500-watt generator could power most household appliances without issue, so a corded phone should be no problem. The issue was, though, that Anne had _said _that the phones were down, so maybe they were unlucky enough to be in a house with cordless landlines. Tony would have tried to use his or Peter’s cellphone, but Anne hadn’t been around enough to ask where they had gone (presumably in the pockets of their snow pants). Perhaps Tony should’ve instructed Peter to find their snow gear, but if Peter was free to roam around the house then it shouldn’t be an issue.

Tony heaved a sigh and sat up in the bed, stretching his arm above his head, and flexing his bum shoulder as tight as he could. He relaxed his shoulders and swung his legs over the bedside. He flexed his ankle experimentally through the gauze wrap and found it tight and uncomfortable, but not as awful as it could be. He stood up carefully, testing the weight for a moment before hobbling off to the bathroom. The water pressure was lower than he was used to, but he did all he needed to do with only a minute amount of pain.

Tony limped back into the room and he leaned against the table, not too eager to lay back down in the bed for the next however many hours. He just stood and got lost in thought.

His trance was broken as Peter came back into the room, a large plate of eggs and bacon in his hands. “I bring sustenance,” he said, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Good man,” Tony said, straightening as Peter walked over. “Find anything?”

“Nothing too substantial,” Peter said, giving Tony a clean plate and fork and extending the full plate to him. Tony went ahead and scraped less than half of the scrambled eggs and three strips of bacon onto his plate. “Though she did show me a picture of her and her family.”

Tony looked up from his plate, intrigued. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, suddenly solemn, holding the plate of the remaining food closer to him. “They must be dead, Mr. Stark. She got so sad showing me. I told her not to if it made her upset, but she insisted. She had a daughter, maybe ten, and a son, about Morgan’s age. A husband, too; she said that he had come over from his home in Zimbabwe for schooling in the states. Their kids were _adorable, _Mr. Stark; I can’t imagine what she’s gone through.” Peter seemed to start getting emotional. “How could something like that happen?”

That solidified Tony’s theory, then; Anne had suffered losing her entire family somehow and she was suffering because of it. He wondered if there was any way he could help her. Maybe buying a house for her somewhere a little more populated, or maybe getting a dog for her, or maybe just giving her enough money to live as fully as she could for the rest of her life would help. He knew that money didn’t fix everything, but it made life a little more bearable. Maybe it would give her the resources to start over. She was young enough, Tony considered. Mid-thirties, maybe; Tony didn’t _really _start living until he was a little over forty, so time wasn’t up for her just yet.

“Life really tests people sometimes, Peter,” Tony said quietly. “Some more than others. The best we can do is offer help.”

Peter plopped down on the bed, looking at the plate in his lap, seemingly lost. “You gonna help her?”

Tony shrugged, sitting down beside Peter. “I can try. Some people are weird about someone giving them money –,”

“You could just say May,” Peter mumbled, and Tony elbowed him playfully.

“– but sometimes the offer is enough. I’ll talk to her later.”

Peter nodded, on board with the idea. He rubbed his nose with a fist. “All right. I asked about the phones again. She said they were still out, but the storm would be lifted by tomorrow. I wish I knew where my cell was so we wouldn’t have to rely on the landlines.”

“I thought about that while you were gone,” Tony admitted, biting into a piece of bacon. “Did you ask her about our cells? Did you see what kind of house phone she had?”

“I didn’t ask about the cell phones,” Peter said, biting the corner of his lip. “Probably should have, but I figured they probably wouldn’t get signal out here anyways and I doubt this house has wi-fi.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Tony shrugged. “But it’s no hurry.”

“Also, yeah, she has a phone in the kitchen. One of those oldies that attach to the wall. Haven’t used one of those in ages,” Peter said, shoveling a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

Something sank in Tony’s chest. “It was corded?”

Peter nodded. “Yup. It was that ugly tan color too.”

Tony looked at Peter, his stomach wrenching tightly. It was a moment and then Peter noticed that Tony was looking at him strangely. Peter swallowed his eggs and frowned. “What?”

“Peter, corded phones work with or without electricity.”

Peter stared at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

There was a heavy pause.

“So…she lied?” Peter whispered. “Why?”

Tony wished he had an answer. It seemed that the second that everything made sense, there was a little variable that he couldn’t see until he had to solve for it. He felt like he was one step behind something.

///

When Anne knocked on the door again it was almost 5 PM. The snow outside had finally stopped its heavy fall, now just a sprinkle of white dots against a darkening canvas of sky. The pair had played a few rounds of checkers and slept a little, but they mostly just ruminated on the thoughts in their head. Peter had tried to logic his way through the situation, but there were too many missing puzzle pieces to discern much. Tony just wished Pepper was here.

Peter was lying on the floor when Anne knocked, limbs akimbo, sifting through the white cards in the Cards Against Humanity box and occasionally laughing. The kid didn’t startle per-say, but he did lower the cards to his stomach, and he looked at Tony, concerned.

“It’s okay,” Tony mouthed with a small smile, and Peter seemed to soothe at that.

“Knock, knock,” Anne said through the door. “Just wanted to see if you guys were hungry at all. I can make grilled cheese and tomato soup if you’d like?”

“Sounds great,” Tony said. “But can I talk to you real quick? You can come in.”

Anne opened the door slowly and entered the room, decked in comfy looking pajamas with little cartoon reindeer on them. It would’ve been endearing if it weren’t for the mass of suspicion gnawing at Tony’s insides.

But he put on a smile, as fake as it was.

“I just wanted to say thank you so much for everything you’ve done for us,” Tony said, and he was almost genuine. “I know I’ve already said it, but it’s true.”

“It’s really no problem, Mr. Stark,” she reassured, her grey eyes soft. “I’ve enjoyed the company.”

“Us too. It gets lonely up here, I’m sure.”

That caused the reaction that Tony was expecting. Her composure crumpled into something a little sadder. She hung her head as she made her way over to the bed. Tony shuffled to the right, leaving her room to sit at the foot of the bed. She did with a quiet sigh. “It does. It’s not really the same without my family.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said genuinely. “May I ask what happened to them?”

She looked at the floor for a couple of long seconds. Tony thought that she wouldn’t indulge him, which was understandable, but then she huffed a short breath.

“We were in Albany,” she said. “I don’t even really remember why – I think my husband wanted to see where I was born, but –,” She took a steadying breath. “That’s where we were when the…the _Snap _occurred.”

Tony couldn’t help but wince. She didn’t notice.

“I…I couldn’t understand what was happening. One moment, we were walking on the sidewalk, the streets were busy with couples and kids and dogs, and the next, half of them were clouds of dust. I remember…I remember holding Kabelo’s hand, and he had the children tucked into his side. I remember praying, saying ‘God, please not my children, _please _don’t take my children from me.’”

Tony watched as her eyes started to tear up, her hand grabbing at her pant legs, scrunching up a poor deer between her fingers. Peter was still laying on the floor, eyes staring at the ceiling, clearly trying to keep it together as well. Tony almost wanted to tell her to stop, but he felt like he needed to know; he needed the context.

“There were a couple of seconds where nothing happened,” Anne continued, her voice starting to quake. “Nothing happened to them. They didn’t dust. My family didn’t vanish.”

The pause that followed probably would have signified the end of the story given how long the moment went on.

“The driver did, though,” she whispered. “And his car hopped the curb.”

Then, she looked away from Tony, facing the door. Tony could fill in the blanks well enough.

“I can’t imagine that,” Tony murmured after about a minute. “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring them back.”

Surprisingly, Anne laughed, though she still faced the door. “I figured you’d say that. It’s nobody’s fault but Thanos’. Only Thanos. And you killed him.”

_Technically, Thor did, _Tony thought, but he didn’t bother to correct her.

“If there’s anything I can do to help,” Tony hedged gently. “A new house, a million dollars, I can do that. Think of it as a payment for your hospitality.”

She seemed to freeze, sniffing. When she turned back to Tony, there was a strange look in her eyes, something Tony wasn’t sure he’d seen before. Usually if someone were to turn down money, they’d laugh or sneer and wave him off. If they wanted the money, but didn’t know how to show it, they’d play coy, usually saying that they didn’t need it, but they were words born out of politeness. There were degrees of emotion between the two ranges, but Tony couldn’t say he could pin Anne’s. Her face had turned stony, almost passive, but her eyes were pinched like she was confused, like she couldn’t imagine for the life of her why’d he offer her anything.

“I don’t need money,” she said, her voice almost monotone. Peter must’ve heard it too because he looked over at Tony and furrowed his brows. Tony kept his expression open and inquisitive, though, because there was something _there. _

“I’m…not sure how else to help you, then.” Normally, Tony wouldn’t have replied like that, especially to a person who turned down his offer. He would have continued to egg them on, but he couldn’t bring himself to play ball like that, not with the way she was looking at him.

She had seemed shocked by his response, incredulous even, before her expression darkened into something more charged. Alarm bells rang in his head.

“I want my family,” she said softly, completely at odds with the severe expression in her eyes, making the grey in her irises glint like serrated steel. She shifted forwards on the bed, closer to Tony. He ignored his instinct to back up (it’s not like he could really escape if he wanted to anyways) and kept her gaze because that’s all he really had the strength to do.

“I know,” Tony said in a way he hoped was consoling. “I’m sorry I can’t bring them back.”

“You’re not understanding,” she said, her tone almost snappish. Peter sat up from his position on the floor, staring at Tony worriedly. Tony flicked his eyes over to Peter for a fraction of a second, mouthing a quick _no _to him before looking back at Anne.

The woman didn’t seem to notice. “I want my family. I want a family.”

She was very close to Tony now, looking down on him, her face almost a foot away from his. Her smile was crocodilian.

The puzzle piece that Tony was missing for the past few days, the one that remained stubbornly hidden finally clicked into place, and suddenly he could see the whole picture. Its image made him sick.

She reached over towards him and it was all Tony’s strength to not flinch as she cupped his cheek, the same cheek she had caressed the night before. He continued to look at her, though every single atom in his body was screaming to look away. He could feel his breath get lodged in his throat and his blood felt like sludge in his veins. Her touch was just as gentle as it was the other night, but it was worse…so much worse. Peter jumped to his feet, body poised like a panther, still. Tony didn’t dare look over to him again.

“I see you with Mrs. Potts,” she whispered, rubbing her thumb over his cheek, the digit swiping too close to his lips for comfort. “I see how much she loves you. I could love you like that. I loved Kabelo like that. He’d want me to move on.”

“Not like this,” Tony managed, his voice hoarse. “Not with me.”

She swiped her thumb over his lips, pressing the pad against the seam. He finally closed his eyes, hoping that whatever this was would end soon. He never remembered one-sided fascination being this curdling.

“Please don’t leave me alone here, Tony,” she murmured. “I can’t do it anymore. This was a gift from God – He wouldn’t have put you on that road if He didn’t want me to find you.”

Another puzzle piece locked in. He felt his stomach drop to his ankles.

“I never meant to hurt you or the boy,” she said, and Tony could feel her leaning in even closer. He kept his eyes shut and tried to find his breath. “I was just hoping to confuse you, scare you maybe. But maybe this was better.”

She moved her thumb from his lips. He wished Peter wasn’t here.

“God works in mysterious ways,” she breathed. And then she kissed him.

He had known it was coming, but it was a lot more awful than he could’ve imagined. He could feel her moving her mouth against his, trying to open him up, get him to reciprocate, but he remained still and unresponsive under her.

“Get off him,” Peter said, his voice low in a way Tony wasn’t used to. Anne ignored him, planting a hand against Tony’s right pectoral. Tony growled low in his throat, though it must have sounded like a moan to her because she started to squeeze–

“I said get off!” Peter yelled and Tony felt the mattress dip on his right side.

Anne slowly moved off him. Tony still didn’t dare take a breath, though he did crack his eyes open, staring at her through his tangle of eyelashes and unshed tears. She was still close, though she was no longer in the “danger” range. A simmer of rage settled low in his stomach when he saw how content she was, blushing faintly, lips red. “You’ll learn to love it,” she whispered lasciviously, her words dripping dark promises. “You’ll learn to love me.”

She then looked over to Peter and Tony was really ready to throttle her if she even _looked _at the boy the same way she had looked at him. She didn’t, though; she just looked at Peter gently, understandingly, before she stood up and walked away from the bed, towards the door.

“I’ll bring sandwiches and soup later,” she said before walking out and shutting the door behind her. She acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Tony, however, was so wildly uncomfortable with what had just occurred, he couldn’t even _begin _to compartmentalize it. And, God, the fact that Peter had seen it made it so much worse. He shut his eyes again and clapped his hand against them for good measure, finally managing a raggedy inhale and exhale.

Again. And again. Stave off the anxiety. It’s done, it’s over _for how long? _doesn’t matter, in and out, breathe, _breathe…_

“Hey, Mr. Stark. Tony, hey hey, it’s all right. She’s gone,” Peter was saying beside him. The kid was on the bed, kneeling most likely, hovering close enough to be a presence, but not close enough to accidentally touch him and worsen the situation. Tony loved this kid more than life.

“I’m okay, Pete. I’m good,” Tony said, words stringing another exhale. “Thank you for not killing her.”

“I was close to,” Peter said, and Tony really couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Why did you not push her off?”

“We need to stay on her good side if we have any chance of escape,” Tony said. “We couldn’t risk losing any of the leverage we have.”

“What leverage?” Peter snapped. “Look at what she just did!”

“You can leave the room,” Tony whispered, meeting Peter’s eyes with an intense seriousness. “And there’s a _phone, _kid. A _connected _phone. Our lanes are wide open; we need to make sure they stay that way.”

“At the expense of _you?_” Peter insisted, stubbornness clear in his eyes. “That was _not _okay!”

“I’m not saying it was,” Tony agreed, keeping his tone even. As much as he hated seeing Peter upset, it was getting his mind off That. “But if it’s what’s going to get us home, it’s worth it.”

“What if it had been me?” Peter argued and Tony clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head even before Peter was done speaking. “If it had been me, you would be acting _very _differently right now.”

“Because you’re a kid!” Tony hissed, popping his eyes open, glaring at Peter. “I would put myself through every hell on earth to make sure you were safe. Why do you think I look like I lost a fistfight to a paper shredder?”

“Don’t say that,” Peter spat, though the malice was lost under the tears in his eyes. “Don’t say that like you deserved it.”

“All I’m saying,” Tony murmured, trying the diffuse the situation. “Is that I can handle this. I’ve charmed my way in and out of tons of situations like this.”

Peter sniffed, looking down. He conceded. “You’re a little out of practice.”

The joke fell flat, sure, but Tony could appreciate the attempt. “C’mere, Pete.” He ushered the kid over with his arm. “And lay on this side, I’m tired of not being able to hug my kid.”

Peter sniffed again and crawled carefully over Tony’s legs, immediately slotting his body against Tony and under his arm. Tony immediately wrapped his arm around the kid’s back, gripping him tightly against his side. He turned and buried his nose into the kid’s curls, shutting his eyes, concentrating on the smell of his shampoo rather than the smell of Anne’s perfume that still lingered in his nostrils.

///

Anne brought food that night, grilled cheese and tomato soup like she had promised. Peter was asleep against Tony, head buried against his neck. Tony stared her down as she made her way over to the side table, tightening his hold on Peter. She gave him a private smile, acting completely oblivious to Tony’s seething stare. She set the tray down and reached a hand over, but it wasn’t aimed at Tony.

“Touch him and I’ll knock your teeth out,” Tony warned, and he watched with gratifying satisfaction as her hand froze and retreated to her side. He probably shouldn’t have threatened her (_keep the lanes open, Stark, keep them open) _but her getting friendly with Peter was where he drew the line.

She frowned at him, but it was only a little thing. “I can’t touch my kid’s head?”

And, _oh, _that made him angry. “I don’t know what delusion you’re under, but if you think even for a second that he’s _yours, _you can kiss my ass.”

Probably not the best word choice to use, but she really didn’t seem to care. Peter mumbled something into Tony’s skin and shifted, still asleep, thankfully. She did narrow her eyes slightly, but it was almost amused, almost begging him to crumble under the double-standard he put himself under because, the reality of it was, Peter was just as much hers as he was Tony’s.

Water and blood, water and blood.

She didn’t word her obvious thoughts, though. She just smiled again, the shape of it hauntingly fake against the frozen expression of deluded infatuation in her eyes. Tony thought that she might try to touch him again, but she moved away from his side of the bed. Instead, she went to the foot of the bed and placed her hands on the spread, bracketing Tony’s feet. She very deliberately grazed her fingers against his right ankle, so featherlight that he couldn’t feel it through the bedspread and the gauze. The threat, though, _that _was tangible. The promise of it was dark, like something out of King’s _Misery. _He suddenly had horrible visions of Kathy Bates swinging a mallet at his ankles, snapping them between a wooden block.

“Careful, Mr. Stark,” Anne said, her voice almost singsong. She then pressed her palm into the top of his ankle. It didn’t hurt, but if he didn’t get the picture before, he sure did now. “I’d really hate to hurt you again.”

“I’d hate for you to hurt me again, too,” he agreed and, somewhere, he heard James Caan laugh. “Just don’t touch the kid, and we can both avoid the things we hate.”

She seemed to contemplate this for a moment, and when her thoughts were through, she squeezed his ankle twice. Tony would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, even a little.

“I’m locking the door,” she said, and Tony felt his blood freeze, followed by a thick syrup of disappointment in himself layer over his lungs. “If you need anything, knock.”

With one final smile, she turned and left the room. The door shut and, sure enough, the sound of a key slotting in a lock echoed across the room. Why the lock was placed like that, Tony didn’t want to know; it was a different puzzle he didn’t care to solve for.

Peter snuggled a little closer. Tony took a deep breath and looked out the window. It was still light outside, but just barely. The sun had been out for much of the afternoon, melting the snow away from the window. Tony hoped that the sun would keep its onslaught throughout tomorrow because Tony was determined to escape this place.

It had to be now. They were running out of time. If it lasted any longer, something would for sure happen to him and Peter would have to witness it.

The less trauma, the better. The less trauma, the better.

They had to get to that phone.

///

Tony didn’t touch the food, nor did he sleep. Peter woke up around 1 AM and grumbled about how Tony should have woken him up. Tony just grunted, releasing Peter as the kid stood up to go to the bathroom.

When Peter came back out, he looked over and frowned at the uneaten food at the table. Tony just sighed. “Wasn’t hungry. You can eat if you want, if you don’t mind cold soup.”

Peter wrinkled his nose and stretched his arms above his head. “I’d rather die.”

Tony released a chuckle, and he hated how good it felt, but he remembered what he had to tell Peter, and he immediately sobered. Peter, of course, noticed. He dropped his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to call me a hypocrite,” Tony prefaced and was shocked when Peter hung his head and laughed, though the sound was dry.

“You closed our lanes, didn’t you?” He didn’t sound angry, just exasperated, like he had expected it. Tony didn’t like that.

“In my defense,” he spluttered, raising his hand slightly. “I wasn’t going to just let her get all touchy with you.”

“Times like these I think you forget who I am,” Peter responded, looking too proud of himself for Tony’s liking. “What do you need me to do?”

“First of all, smug looks awful on you,” Tony recovered, gesturing towards Peter. “Is this the first big accomplishment you’ve had since you made mac n’ cheese without burning the water?”

Peter gaped, acting offended before he shut his mouth and smirked. “Big words coming from someone who took two hours to make an omelet.”

“I’m forbidding you from ever talking to my wife again,” Tony grumbled, though his smile towards Peter was warm. “Second of all,” he continued after Peter finished giggling, getting back on task. “She locked us in. I need you to listen and see if she’s awake, if not, break the handle and call FRIDAY’s emergency number.”

Peter nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“We only get one chance at this,” Tony warned. “Once the handle is broken, it’s game. We need to be outta here.”

“Should I try to find our stuff?” Peter said. “Our snow clothes and phones?”

“Make the call first,” Tony said after a second of thought. “Once the cavalry comes, we won’t be in danger anymore.”

“Got it.”

“Is she awake?”

Peter took a deep breath and that faraway look in his eyes returned. His brows furrowed and then he blinked. The vacant look cleared and was replaced with something like trepidation. “I can’t tell.”

That wasn’t the answer Tony was hoping for. “Explain.”

“She’s upstairs,” Peter said. “But the TV is on so it’s kind of hard for me to hear her. I _think _she’s asleep, but I can’t know for sure.”

“That’s gonna have to do,” Tony grunted, sitting up. He pointed to the door. “How quiet do you think you can be with that?”

Peter followed Tony’s finger and contemplated it. “Enough.”

Again, not a fantastic answer, but Tony trusted Peter. “You remember FRI’s number?”

Peter nodded once and looked back over to Tony for the final say.

Tony took a breath and looked at Peter with all the love and worry he could muster. “If _anything _goes wrong, you’d better vocalize it. I’m hurt, not crippled. I’ll come help.”

“I will, Tony.”

“Promise me.”

Peter’s eyes turned hard, but not with cold, instead with deep trust and promise. It was enough, even after Peter confirmed it: “I promise.”

Tony nodded once, swinging his legs over the bed. “Take us home, kid.”

Peter nodded quickly before creeping over to the door, not a single board creaking beneath his socked feet. He grasped the door handle in one hand and turned it. The handle jiggled slightly before Peter _really _cranked it. There was a snap of metal and the crunch of old wood. Peter immediately swung the door wide, splinters of wood littering the floor. He stuck his foot out below the outside handle, intending to soften its fall if it were to come completely unhinged. The handle, miraculously, stayed fastened to the door, though it did dangle dauntingly by one screw. The pair released a breath.

Peter crouched and placed the now malformed handle on the floor, the little golden object unable to roll away with the finger indents marring the metal. Peter stayed crouched for a few more seconds, listening, before he nodded, standing and tiptoeing out the door with a slight glance back at Tony. The boy vanished into the dark of the hallway.

Tony strained as hard as he could, trying to hear Peter shuffling around the house, but there was no way he was hearing anything past the threshold of the room. He stood up as carefully as he could, planting his hand on the table for balance. After a couple of breaths, he managed to hobble over to the foot of the bed. He didn’t notice before, but two pairs of snow boots sat there, one pair Tony’s and the other Peter’s. Tony’s black socks lay beside them.

Tony moved to sit on the floor, trying to lower himself as best he could with one arm. He cringed when his body hit a little harder than he was comfortable with. He strained to hear to see if he alerted Anne, but it was just as fruitless as the last time. He just shook his head and worked on getting his socks and shoes on. As he was putting on his second shoe, Peter snuck back into the room, eyes alight with wild fear.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“She ripped it out of the wall,” Peter said shakily. “There might be another one upstairs, but if she took out one, she took out all of them.”

“_Fuck, _okay,” Tony hissed, dragging his hand down his face. “Plan B. Find our shit and get our phones.”

Peter didn’t hesitate; he just turned and slunk back out.

She was _really _onto them, then. Enough to become paranoid enough to rip her landlines out of the wall. This really was down to the wire. He shoved his boot on, choking back a gasp as pain shot through his right foot. He let the pins and needles wash over his entire limb, taking too many minutes ushering the boot on his foot. After that, he sat to catch his breath, waiting for Peter to return.

The boy was gone long enough to make Tony worry. He was so close to getting up and trying to look for him but walking across the floor with the boots on would cause more trouble than it was worth; it was for a quick getaway, not a search and rescue. Peter did come back, though, with a handful of jackets and an object with the familiar glint of red and gold.

“My arm,” Tony breathed, dumbfounded. Peter dropped the jackets and handed Tony the prosthetic. “She said she couldn’t find it.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time she’s lied,” Peter said, brandishing a pair of phones in his hands. The screens were dark. “Thank God, too. She buried our tech under the floorboards in the living room. The only reason I found it was because your arm was humming.”

“Humming?” Tony questioned, not looking up at Peter as he pushed his t-shirt sleeve up, trying to reattach his arm one-handed.

“The electricity,” Peter clarified, putting the phones in his pockets and shoving his arms through his jacket. “Our phones are dead. If you had _really _lost your arm, we’d have been screwed.”

Small gifts.

“Thankfully I can’t make anything demure,” Tony said, finally managing to lock the prosthetic in place. It would always feel weird and heavy, but it was an alien feeling Tony welcomed. He ordered the arm to make a fist; it did. He ordered each finger to touch his thumb; it did. Again; it did. Then, using his other hand, he pressed a panel on the underside of the prosthetic. There was a small _click _and a little red button appeared. He pressed it.

Peter frowned when nothing happened.

Tony felt a wave of relief wash over him as he closed the panel. He clasped Peter’s shoulder with an ironclad hand. “Don’t worry, kid. Rescue is coming.”

Pun very much intended, Peter’s worry melted into a smile.

Then, the hallway light turned on.

Tony instinctively swung his arm towards the hall, palm outstretched, even though he knew that there was no active RT in the prosthetic. It was essentially a colorful paperweight that could only call for help. Instead, Tony swung his arm to gather Peter close to him, effectively putting his body between presumably Anne and the kid. Sure enough, he heard her footsteps walking down the stairs.

“I thought I had locked that door,” he heard Anne say, though it was less of a private musing and more of a mocking announcement. They were found out. Time was up.

Neither Peter nor Tony said anything, though Peter was halfheartedly struggling to get out from Tony’s grasp. Tony allowed him movement, though he turned to the boy as he started to shuffle forward.

“Put your shoes on,” Tony whispered. “We may need to break for it.”

Despite everything, Tony still didn’t want to see Anne hurt. He’d rather chance it in the snow than cause the death of a lonely (though delusional) woman. Help was coming anyway – it didn’t matter where they were when it came.

“I can fight,” Peter insisted, shoving his shoes on, not bothering to smother the shuffling of the fabric of his jacket.

“I know you can, kid,” Tony hissed, maneuvering his own jacket on; he could see a shadow forming in the light splayed on the hardwood floor. “But that’s last case scenario, do you understand?”

Peter didn’t verbally answer, but he did glare at Tony.

Anne moved around the corner and stopped, staring at them from her place in the middle of the hallway. Tony met her glare head-on, zipping up his jacket and standing. It wasn’t a smooth rise by any means, but he hadn’t yet stood in her presence. The challenge was clear.

Her eyes glinted sharply, and she stood straighter. “Where are you going, dear?”

“Home,” Tony said, Peter standing up beside him. “The storm is over, and we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“Surely not,” Anne pouted, taking a few steps forward. Tony could feel Peter drop his weight to his hips, his knees bending slightly. Tony grabbed the edge of his jacket loosely, warningly. “You’ve only just arrived. Besides –,” she looked pointedly down at Tony’s foot. “– your ankle is still injured.”

“I’ll make it,” Tony said, though he did shift his right foot a little further back. “I always do.”

Anne was at the threshold now, barring the doorway, their way of escape, her entire body the picture of barely contained rage. Then, something in her expression shifted, no, _crumpled, _and the stoniness that he associated with her cracked. Tears welled in her eyes as she took a ragged breath and she began to cry. Tony knew, he _knew _that her tears belonged to crocodiles, but it still pulled at his heart. No matter the context, no matter what she did, she was _still _lonely, and she _still _lost her family. He still wanted to _do _something for her, despite what she had done to him.

But now was not the time. Help was coming and he needed to get Peter _out._

“Step away,” Tony said in the strongest voice he could manage. “It’s over. We can get you the help you need, but right now, you need to step away.”

“Please,” she begged, taking another step forward. She was in the room now. Peter was rigid beside Tony. “Please, you’re my last hope for living in this world. This place is cruel, and I can’t _bear _to live in it without Kabelo, without my kids. I am _nothing _without them.”

The words struck Tony’s heart, especially the words that mirrored a moment from a time that felt like eons ago. Peter must’ve felt them too because Tony heard his breath stutter. Tony didn’t let it waver him, though; she was manipulating him. Whatever spell she was trying to cast wouldn’t work. He shifted his feet into a boxer’s stance as she took another step.

“You still have time to be happy,” Tony insisted. “There is so much out there waiting for you. They would _want _you to be happy.”

She was a mere meter away from them now. Her hair was in a loose ponytail and her grey eyes were blurred with tears. She was physically imposing, Tony’s height, and she could probably lay out a few punches if she wanted to.

Clearly, she did as her demeanor snapped.

She struck out with a fist, clocking Peter in the face, right where the dark bruise painted his chin. Stunned, Peter’s head snapped to the side and he stumbled away from Tony.

Seeing red, Tony formed a fist with his right hand and struck her in her shoulder, causing her to cry out. She swiped out with her left fist, which Tony managed to dodge, but the movement tilted his weight just enough to leave his legs in striking distance. She took advantage of it and her foot connected with his right leg. He was lucky that her foot hit his shin instead of his ankle, but it still hurt enough to make him stumble to the side, white hot pain radiating up his leg.

She threw another fist and it very nearly clocked Tony in the head if it hadn’t been for Peter’s hand catching her fist mid-swing. Something akin to panic filtered past the fury in her gaze as Peter wrenched her arm away, causing her to stumble back. To Peter’s merit, he didn’t pursue; he just stood between Anne and Tony, a wall of inhuman strength and protective rage.

“I think you’re bleedin’ a little, boy,” she sneered, straightening up again, clearly still rearing for a fight.

Tony took a pained breath and stood straight, heavily favoring his left side; his right boot was almost entirely off the ground. He wrapped his arm around Peter, half to protect the boy and half to steady himself.

A sound split the dark morning sky, like an airplane had just crossed overhead. Then, another airplane crossed. The bright beam of a flashlight filtered through the window, casting their deep shadows across the far wall. Anne’s expression morphed into fear and she stumbled back towards the corner of the room, staring out the bedroom window.

“Let’s go,” Tony murmured into Peter’s ear, leaning heavily on him as they turned to walk out the bedroom. Just as the front door splintered somewhere in the house, Peter vanished from under Tony’s arm, leaving the man to stumble heavily into the door. Tony turned and watched as Anne threw her weight at Peter, fully intending to tackle him to the ground. Peter easily maneuvered around her and she nearly ran headfirst into the wall. Peter looked up at Tony, wired. “Go!”

Tony didn’t have time to argue; he just turned, and, with the help of the wall, he limped into the hallway, meeting the glorious body of Rescue halfway. He immediately threw his arms around her shoulders, feeling the suit’s arms hug him tightly.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, and he heard her retract her mask. She planted a kiss on his head. “Tony, are you all right?”

“Fine,” he dismissed. There was no time. “Help Peter.”

“I’m on it Tones,” the modulated voice of Rhodey said, War Machine stomping past the pair of them to enter the room where Anne was still trying to land her punches.

“Desist,” Rhodey growled in his military voice. He was an imposing figure to behold. Tony, reassured that Rhodey would take care of it, turned his face to bury it into Rescue’s neck. It squashed his nose painfully, but he did it anyway. Pepper continued to hold him, even as he heard Anne begging.

“Is he all right?” Another voice asked from Tony’s side.

“I’m good, Capsicle,” Tony said into the plating. “Thanks for coming.”

“Why didn’t you call sooner?” Steve inquired, the righteous leader he was.

Tony laughed. “Long story,” he said, leaving it at that.

He felt Steve’s breath on the skin on his neck as he sighed, then his presence vanished, presumably to go see the woman that War Machine was wrangling.

“Everything’s good, Tony. You’re safe,” Pepper reassured. Tony just hummed, relishing in the comfort that was Pepper’s arms.

///

When they finally left the building, it was almost two hours later. Rhodey insisted calling the cops so they could get Anne to wherever she needed to go. Tony insisted that the cops keep him updated on her condition. They had been puzzled, but they agreed. They gave Peter and Tony a ride back (Tony also insisted that Steve join them because “No, you’re not running through the woods like that again. I didn’t think you’d take my wendigo comment seriously,”) in a squad car after having a paramedic tend to Peter’s busted chin. The car with Anne in the back peeled away first, followed by the ambulance, an empty car, and then theirs. Rhodey and Pepper took to the sky, though he could hear them nearby the entire ride back. When they peeled out of the property, Tony heard Peter’s breath catch. Tony turned to look and see what Peter had seen.

And there, beneath a tin roof attached to the side of the house, was the grey car.

///

“It had to have been stalking,” Happy said the next day, fingers scratching nervously at his goatee. His other hand was tapping absently against the dining table. “Mixed with wrong place, wrong time.”

Pepper huffed frustratingly, the CEO in her jumping out. “It can’t be that simple.” One of her hands was tapping at her phone, the other was clutching Tony’s left hand tightly.

Happy shrugged, looking at her apologetically, asking her to come up with something better because he was all ears.

“I’m irresistible, Pep,” Tony said, squeezing her hand. She glared at him anyway. He gave her a consoling smile. “Really, Pep, it’s okay. Worse things have happened.”

And he knew she couldn’t argue that.

She pursed her lips and looked back down at her phone, shaking her head. “See, I thought we were _escaping _the limelight coming up here. Clearly, you attract the limelight like buzzards to roadkill.”

“Coulda used a kinder simile there, Pep,” Tony mused.

“I thought this part of our lives would be over.”

Tony squeezed her hand again and he caught her eye. They exchanged a look that said more than words could ever hope to relay.

_I know, but I’m me._

_I’m always scared for you…I can’t keep losing you._

_You won’t._

_You can’t know that._

_Maybe not, but I’ve always come home. I will always return home to you._

She offered him a small, still nervous smile before squeezing his hand again, turning to read through her phone.

“At least you had the wherewithal to call for help this time,” Happy commented, turning in his seat as Morgan came running around the corner. He opened his arm as she barreled into him, clambering onto his lap and laughing joyfully. “We both know that your track record would bet against that,” he continued saying, bending to speak around Morgan’s bouncing little body.

“I’m not gonna say you’re wrong,” Tony sighed, watching as Steve rounded the corner next. Morgan nearly screeched, wriggling to be let down off Happy’s lap. She giggled and ran away.

Tony raised his eye at Steve. Steve noticed and glared at him, though there was no heat to it. “Don’t look at me like that – I know that you’re the guilty one.”

“What could I possibly be guilty of?”

“Want the long list or the short one?”

“I was simply telling Morgan to discover the truth,” Tony said pointing a finger at Steve. “To discover once and for all that you are, indeed, a dinosaur.”

Steve looked at him and then had the audacity to scoff. “She’s going to be _so _disappointed when she finds out that I can’t grow scales and a tail.”

“Feathers, don’t forget feathers,” Pepper interrupted, not looking up from her phone.

Tony waved a hand. “Just put on _Jurassic Park, _and then she’ll stop hounding you.”

Pepper whirled on Tony. “I am _not _letting our child watch _Jurassic Park _at this age!”

“You both are really hard to please,” Tony grumbled through his smirk, watching as Steve gave up, rolling his eyes and laughing as he turned away.

He left and Peter took his place. He seemed out of breath.

“Who’s got you winded?” Happy asked.

“Little Bug,” Peter answered. “Who else? Jeez, how does a child have _that _much energy?”

“I say that about you way to often to be healthy,” Tony said before turning to Pepper. “Why is it that we have to run children like dogs? Where do they keep all that energy?” She didn’t answer him, but she also didn’t hide her smirk.

“Anyways,” Tony sighed, looking back at Peter. “You doing okay, Pete?”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, that’s been far from my worst day ever.”

“Still sucked.”

“For sure.”

There was a quiet pause and Peter shuffled his feet nervously. “I’m worried for her.”

Pepper squeezed Tony’s hand. “Me too, kid,” Tony agreed. “Me too.”

“Sorry that I couldn’t have, you know, done more,” Peter murmured, hanging his head.

“You did just enough, Pete,” Tony reassured. “And you’re safe; that’s all that matters.”

Peter sniffed a little and continued to shuffle his feet. Tony quirked the corner of his lip. “Come here, kiddo.”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He was at Tony’s right side in a second, bending low so he could hug Tony comfortably. Pepper released Tony’s left hand so he could hug Peter properly, with both arms wrapped around the boy’s back. Last night, the pair of them had been so tired that they had passed out the moment they hit their respective beds (after Pepper got ice for Peter’s chin and Rhodey re-wrapped Tony’s ankle). It felt good to hug the boy properly again. He squeezed Peter and he squeezed back.

“Petey!” came Morgan’s voice from somewhere within the house. “Auntie Nat is gonna help us get Mister Steve! Come help!”

Peter released Tony with a laugh. “I’m coming, Bug!” He walked around the table back the way he came, waving to the trio sitting at the table. All three gave various goodbyes before Peter vanished to go find his sister.

“I know I’ve already said this,” Pepper mused after a moment, leaning into Tony’s side. “But fatherhood looks really good on you.”

Once upon a time, that might have scared him. It didn’t anymore.

He kissed the top of her head and shut his eyes. He loved the smell of her perfume.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this shit in two weeks. all or nothing, kiddos
> 
> if yall got requests, im loosely accepting them. hope you enjoyed!!


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